Divine Intervention
by lazarus wolf
Summary: Sequel to "Through a Looking Glass Darkly."
1. Chapter 1

KIRKWALL - ONE YEAR AFTER THE FALL OF THE IMPERIUM

He hated the looks he got from them as they passed him. Here he was a good friend of theirs - once - and they looked at him as if he was something they stepped in. But it was they who were lower than Nug shit.

Truth was he hated to breathe the same air as them; these worthless wretches had escaped their intended fate so many months ago when so many others hadn't. Here they were, in the Hanged Man as if they never left, unlike the others they had benefitted from, then left to be burned alive.

One reached toward an ill-concealed dagger as he eyed Varric.

Varric grinned as he touched Bianca's trigger.

As expected, the gutless fuck relented, and moved with the other fourteen to the exit.

These fifteen had been away that night, and returned to find the old place newly remodeled and rebuilt after having been gutted by the fire, with the barley detectable scent of burnt flesh still lingering in the air to remind them all of 'that night'.

THEY seemed surprised to see HIM alive, unscathed, and dripping with gold rings, chains, and earrings; their revulsion was palpable. In the grander scheme of things they had NOT proven worthy of HIS former good graces; in fact, they should be glad to be alive - for now. The fact was that while Cormack had no interest in killing, the same could not be said for him and Bianca. All of these cowards had advanced information about the purge, and ran; had left their uninformed friends to die; and had he not been 'useful' to Lilith - he would be the most painfully 'purged' of them all. In the end he had turned out to be the one blessed by fortune and the lyrium laced blood of his forbears. Lilith Cousland had decided he was of use. The fact that she could 'taste' he was not a fool enough to mess with her trust any more than he had been to betray Hawke's was what had saved him.

So here he was, once more in Kirkwall, once more seated at HIS table at the back of the beautifully refurbished tavern; now under Lilith's ownership (but did she really need to hang thirty foot long, multi-color, silk drapes from the walls? Well, they did go nicely with the scantily clad, silk and lace adorned tavern girls who paraded their alluring bodies and ales from all corners of Thedas about.) You could literally get ANY drink you wanted here, and a hell of a lot of information. Varric was back to pedaling his old wares, but for a far greater cause and a lot more money. The one disappointment he had was he was not going to seal the fate of these cowards; that bloody honor would be for an unknown new recruit recommended to Lilith by Fenris. He was to kill all but one, and deliver him to Lilith to find the leak in her and her brother's respective circles. Varric's present problem was that the fifteen were leaving, and the recruit was late, and untested. Varric was about to change that.

A young male elf entered the tavern as all the fifteen 'survivors' spat on the floor and departed.

The Elven tavern girl who brought Varric an ale bent low, seemingly so he could view her ample cleavage, smell her perfume, but it was to take the poisoned bolt from the garter on her hip as he eyed the new arrival entering the tavern.

"That him?" he asked, never averting his eyes from the young man.

"According to Lilith," the elf girl whispered, "he carries a blue steel short sword - enchanted."

Varric nodded, "Brush by him, stroke his thigh, let me see under his cloak."

The girl nodded and left.

Varric studied the improvised 'frisking'. The Elf was tall, handsome, slender, thus far seemingly average; but when the lovely tavern girl stroked his thigh 'innocently', the sudden glint of blue steel from under his cloak as he spun to watch her walk by marked him. The recruit had arrived. "Sloppy," the dwarf noted to himself.

A group of three sizable men stood in a corner of the tavern, also watching the new arrival. As the sword came into view, one of them turned to Varric.

Varric nodded, "Make it quick... but don't do anything irreversible to him."

The three advanced on the elf, as did three more from the opposite side of the tavern. Varric watched with a look of almost pity as the young man was suddenly lunged upon by all six at once... then the pity turned to panic, and awe-struck wonder.

The elf moved with an almost blinding speed, evading every attempt by the six men to so much as touch him. The ensuing display of acrobatic and near 'fade spirit' like dexterity, caused all who watched it to become nauseous as their visions blurred to track the slender wraith-like elf as he made short order of his would be assailants, smiling happily as he made them look almost catatonic by comparison; and caused them to beat the daylights out of one another as they swung at him simultaneously.

Varric grew aggravated, and more than a little queasy, so he decided to end the farce, and truly test the elf. He raised Bianca, loaded the poison tipped bolt the tavern girl had brought him, and pulled the trigger.

The elf caught the bolt, and was on Varric before the dwarf could pull the sword from Bianca's stock. "Varric?," the elf asked, smiling, the tip of the bolt at the spy master's beardless chin.

The groan of countless bows being drawn filled the air and the tips of over fifty arrows were suddenly poised to penetrate the Elf's hide as the rest of the tavern waited for his next, and last move.

"Welcome to the service of the Divine," Varric said with a genuine grin, "Lilith's gonna love you - maybe even literally."

None present could imagine where this little mop up operation would ultimately lead; a revelation that would bring about change far eclipsing the birth of Empire.


	2. Dock Walking

The night air was perfect for prowling the docks, and it had been a while since the fifteen had been back in Kirkwall; so, let the waves roll as they always did, and the boys be boys. They were masters of their own fate, survivors, lords of the winds of change... free-range rat feed.

As far as they knew, the danger had passed; the 'Empire', as it was being refered to, was apparently nothing more than a common law enforcement device used to make sure everyone's rights, including elves, were enforced, and protected... no more slave trade - HA! piss, worthless, back to business, "what are they going to do with rights?," a red-haired brute named, well, 'Red' (bright group) asked.

"Kill... each and every one of you," said a handsome young elf, dressed in a form-fitting leather cuirass. He was tall, slender, and hooded. In one hand he held a glowing blue steel short sword; in the other, the hand of the most beautiful woman they had ever seen: her remarkably curvaceous body dressed in a tight-fitting black and crimson silk dress - very stylish (oh, and - strapless - of course).

"Funny," the largest of the fifteen, a hulking giant of a man (hence his name, "Big"), said as he strode forward; his meaty hands pulling a massive, two-handed, double-bladed sword from behind his back... with one hand, "For a dead knife-ear. Don't worry 'bout yer girl, we'll take extra good care of her... when yer dead."

The 'elf' (technically a half-elf, his father being an Antivan merchant, his mother a Kirkwall Alienage woman who had received the help of the Hawkes in rescuing him from Tevinter slavers years ago before sending him off to train in Tevinter, where he met the nicest high dragon in a field outside his farm) walked up and pulled his hood back, caressed his pointed ears, removed them from his real ears, and hurled them faster than could be seen into the throats of the two closest men who were simply standing gawking at the girl.

The giant raised his sword above his towering head, and dropped it behind his back as his intestines spilled from his exposed abdomen with a heavy, wet splat as his free hand tried clumsily to hold them in. He bled out in three minutes, his height useless to him as the half-elf severed the backs of his knees before his innards struck the platform below his massive feet.

The girl strode up to his greying face as he stared at her through astonished eyes and sank her two long, jewel encrusted canines into his thick neck, and tore it open, lapping his blood like a hungry wolf. "Not him," she sighed disappointedly, and dropped his carcass to the ground before walking over to the two felled, though breathing, oglers who, surprisingly, were still staring at her ample cleavage as she pulled out their life's blood through her wet, soft, full lips, and smiled, "I know which one!" she shouted happily, "That one! The one you're about to decapitate!"

The half-elf, Feynriel, had carved his way through the lot of them, leaving them alive, but bleeding out on the ground; fourteen men, mortally wounded, in five minutes. The fifteenth, an albino dwarf, had come one word from her from a quick death, and the loss of the secret he carried in his blood... lucky Lilith - poor dwarf.

Lilith felt obliged to clean up after her man, so, using her force powers... she cleared the streets. She gathered the still breathing, and bleeding men; lifted them into the air; and hurled them into the bay.

The dwarf looked the good-looking pair over warily as they approached. "Can't get good help these days," he said nervously... an attempt at humor.

"I can," Lilith sighed and kissed Feynriel deeply.

"Lilith, I presume?" the dwarf all but whispered in fear.

"Mother would love to have this response from Oghren. Why is it always a dwarf heading these groups of idiots? You people are supposed to be brilliant business types."

"Poor judges of character," the dwarf answered, and smirked nervously.

"Funny," Lilith sighed, and smiled playfully, "bye," and drained him dry.

Feynriel looked on in mild astonishment as Lilith all but sucked the marrow from the dwarf's bones. She relented after what seemed like an eternity of feeding, her white/blue eyes enraged. "NOT AGAIN!" she shrieked, "SODDING TEVINTERS!"

Feynriel stepped to her.

Lilith put a hand out to stop him; breathed in slowly; then grabbed him by his leather breeches and pulled him to her, her mouth still dripping with the dwarf's blood and kissed him deeply. "You did very well," she sighed into his lips, after several minutes, "I'm sorry for my outburst... I get it from my mother."

"You said something about Tevinters?"

"I should have asked my father years ago... I just wanted to stop the mistreatment of elves... I love my Ariani... and you. It was a vision I had of a Tevinter Magister, one of the four original - the defilers of the golden... well, you know. I thought it was a delusion of the one who had it - I'm thinking differently now. Dwarves are very singularly focused, and with the exception of Varric, rarely exaggerate another's importance in relation to themselves. Speaking of him... you fooled him? He didn't recognize you?"

"Not quite!" Varric called out before Feynriel could respond.

The pair turned to see Varric and about thirty men and women walking down the stairs to the docks, "Sorry Lil, your mom want's to see ya - now. normally I ignore requests from people to harass you, but your mother isn't one of them. Go on, we'll clean up here... what's left."

Lilith made a gesture with her hand of crushing paper and tossing it away - the albino dwarfs bloodless body rose as her hand did, compressed as she made a fist, and flew into the night as she made the tossing gesture. "I always clean my plate," she said indifferently, took Feynriels arm and walked back to Hightown, the pair ignoring the sounds of inhuman screams as the bleeding and dying men out in the bay drew a feeding frenzy of large, angry sea creatures - circle of life. Such a darling girl.


End file.
